


Born A Sinner

by flightinflame



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Credence Barebone Learning Magic, Credence Barebone-centric, M/M, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Heavenly Virtues, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Credence is born touched by original sin, and raised to know that he is an unnatural monster.  Moments from his life emphasise this, but there are spots of brightness as well, times when he manages to be good.





	1. Pride/Humility

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt:  
> So I would love someone's take on younger Credence having Ezra's gorgeous curls and Mary Lou deciding he spends too much time taking care of it and wrecking poor Credence for being so prideful. 
> 
> Only it got away from me slightly, so it ended up being a series of 14 vignettes, for the seven deadly sins and the seven heavenly virtues.

Pride:  
Credence stared for a moment in the shop window, his gaze drawn to his own reflection. He felt his face colour a little as he saw himself. His face was slender, feminine, but his hair hung around his ears in soft curls, and sometimes he thought he could be beautiful. He hoped that one day, he would make a young woman a suitable husband. He was too tall, that he knew, and he was not the cleverest of men - mother disliked him to spend too much time learning, so his reading was not the best. But he was handsome enough, and he would be caring. When he found a young lady who would have him as a husband, he would do all he could to make her happy. He would pray for her, and cherish her, and never raise his hand to her.

He tore himself away reluctantly, gaze lingering a moment too long, and went back to handing out his leaflets, a faint smile on his lips. He knew it was a daydream, but he was sure that somewhere there would be the right person for him, and he would be a good husband for them, would kiss her every morning and when they had children, he would care for them. He wondered if they would have the same soft hair that he had, if he would be able to see himself in their eyes. He would be a good father, as good as he could be.

When the leaflets had all been taken, he made his way home, and walked into the church. He couldn't resist the urge to touch his hair again, amazed by how soft it was. It hid the ugliness of his underfed body, how unnaturally tall he was. He wondered if perhaps he could grow it a little longer, long enough to cover his shoulders and hide the scars along his neck. Those ones mother had apologised for inflicting, the only ones on his body with that privilege as even his suit would not hide it. Anyway, men were growing their hair a little longer now. He could probably get away with it. He crouched in front of the metal pot that they used for soup, tugging on one of the curls to see just how long his hair was if he pulled it out straight. Nearly long enough.

"And what are you doing boy?" His mother's voice rang out behind him, and he jumped in shock, hands dropping to his sides as he cringed a little.  
"Noth...nothing mother."  
"Lying doubles the sin child." She stepped closer and he reached for his belt. She snatched it from him, bringing it down hard on his hands first of all, while he bowed his head and made himself speak.  
"Thank you mother. I am sorry." He thanked her each time, until his hands are bloody and she returned his belt to him. Carefully he replaced it.  
"What were you doing?"  
"Looking..." He swallowed, seeing the look in her eyes, the way her gaze narrowed. “Committing the sin of pride mother. Being vain."  
"You should never be vain my boy. You are an ugly wretched creature, and pride is a sin, always. You understand that?"  
"Yes mother." Credence nodded, and she gestured for him to sit down. He sat, his head bowed, and she walked away. He sat in silence, breathing slowly, trying not to be sick. Whatever was coming, it would be bad, he was sure of it. 

When she returned, she was holding a pair of scissors. He didn't dare move or fight as she started to hack his hair, the curls falling to the floor at his feet. He sat still, as she hacked his hair away, leaving his hair uneven, messy. He looked at the fallen curls, and started to cry.  
"Clean up that mess." She ordered. "And from now on, I'm keeping your hair tidy and respectable. I should have stepped in earlier. Don't cry boy. Now, what do you say?" 

“Thank you mother.” He stuttered out, fighting back fresh tears as he crouched to clean the floor with wounded hands. She stormed away.

***

Humility:  
His new wand was twelve inches, flexible hawthorn, with a phoenix feather core. Phoenix feathers were meant to be hard to tame, and hawthorn was to be used by skilled wizards or witches. When they had purchased it, he had been told that hawthorn was inclined to both healing and curses, and that it fitted those of a conflicted nature. Both ingredients were capable of doing their own magic. This was meant to be a wand for a powerful man, a strong wizard. And here he was, with a shiny new wand, Percival's eyes upon him, and he couldn't even form a slight glow of light.

Percival smiled, his eyes shining with the patience he had shown throughout the entire ordeal.  
"You are improving."  
Credence raised an eyebrow slightly. He might have been capable of turning into a mass of black smoke, of destroying half a city, but he wasn't able to learn a spell that shouldn't tax an eleven year old. There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that the other Graves had been right, that he was a squib.

"Have some water." Percival advised, pointing to the glass of water on the table, and waving it over towards Credence. Credence sipped the water, sipping it slowly.  
"Thank you." He murmured.  
"Try again, when you're ready." Percival said, his voice said softly. "You don't need to shout, just say it firmly."

Credence swallowed, determined to get this right. He held his hand out, trying not to let it tremble.  
"Lumos."  
A small light formed at the end of his watch, hovering in front of him for a moment before fading away. 

He felt confidence swell inside of him, looked to Percival with wide hopeful eyes.  
"Well done." Percival praised him, and Credence lowered his gaze.  
"Couldn't have done it without you." He admitted. Percival’s patience was soothing, helped him to learn, meant he could stay calm. He respected Percival, and he was learning more from him about this new life every day.

"Try again." Percival said, but his voice and eyes were kind.


	2. Gluttony/Temperance

Gluttony:  
"Eat as much as you want my boy..." Mister Graves was watching him across the table, and Credence felt his face colouring a little, glancing at the cake that had been put in front of him. There was exotic fruit across it - a pineapple Mister Graves had said. It was sweet, and he was grateful. By his hand, there was a beautiful flower that Graves had gifted him earlier in the evening. Credence felt special at this moment, in a way he rarely had before.

"Thank you..." Credence closed his eyes, relishing the sweet taste that was filling his mouth. 

This evening had completely transformed, just like the flower - a perculid Mister Graves had called it. Two days ago mother had found him sneaking an extra portion at dinner. She had told him that he wasn't going to eat again for a week, until he learned to be grateful for what he had and not ask for more. 

Chastity had given him a slice of bread last night, that she had hidden from her own dinner. Tonight though, there was a faint frosting of ice on the ground, and his mother had sent him out to walk around and hand out leaflets. He wasn't meant to eat. He had no money, so he hadn’t intended to eat.

But Mister Graves had found him, and brought him to the restaurant. It was an incredible place, the kind of place he could never go with his mother. The kind of place he would never have been allowed in if not for Mister Graves at his arm.

Mister Graves chuckled a little, waving his hand over the glass of water that was in front of Credence, and Credence gasped as it turned a deep red. Wine. Mister Graves was a miracle. He leaned in, taking a sip, feeling the alcohol filling him, leaving him a little light headed after eating only some bread the past day. He took another bite of his cake.

"Thank you." He murmured.  
"It's alright my dear boy..." Mister Graves nodded. "You need your strength. Now, have you had any luck finding the obscurial yet?"  
"Not yet Mister Graves." Credence admitted. "I'm sorry. I am looking..."  
"You need to find them boy." Mister Graves insisted, and he nodded quickly. He was determined to please Mister Graves, especially if it meant that he was given food and wine like this, if it could make him smile. Mister Graves made him feel like he was valuable.

In silence, he ate his cake, and Mister Graves led him from the restaurant, leaving a tip behind.  
"My boy... you had best find the obscurial for me. Until you do, I am afraid you cannot stay with me." With that, he disappeared into the night, leaving Credence alone, the flower clutched in his hand. He couldn't go home, so he walked alone through the streets, shivering. The cake left a sense of sickness digging into his stomach. He was regretting gorging on the cake. Snow was beginning to fall.

***

Temperance:  
Credence could feel his fear and terror bubbling inside of him. Mister Graves had changed - he had been kinder before, but now he was demanding. Mister Graves expected him to find a child. He couldn't find the right one, but mother had realised that he was slacking on his duties. He had been forced to endure further pain, further talk of how he was a failure, a monster. How he was a disgrace to his family, how he was a sinner.

He wanted to scream, or lash out. Pain wracked through him, and his body felt strange, as though it were stretching out, transforming in front of all of him. Things were going wrong. His mother was in front of him, her face contorted as she screamed at him.  
"I'm sorry mother." He whispered, flinching. A crack cut through the air, and he saw a plate fall from the cupboard, exploding through the air. His mother's eyes were flashing with silent fury.

"Get out." She said, her voice cold. "We will talk when you have calmed down."

He was grateful for that offer, for the chance to get away. He knew punishment later would be worse, but he had to get as far from home as possible before he lost control completely. He feared what would happen if he did.

He knew that the Jefferson house a few streets away was empty. He could stand there, scream as much as he needed, and no one would stop him. Normally, he walked, but now he was running. 

He crashed into the empty house, starting to scream, anger flowing through him and tangling with terror. Something dark inside him needed to get out, and now that there was no one here who could get hurt he could let it happen. He closed his eyes and surrendered to his rage.

The world faded out from around him, and it was silent for a few moments, before he heard an almighty crash. He opened his eyes, finding himself curled up on the ground in the road outside.

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that the house had collapsed, crumbled to the ground. It was a scene of utter devastation. People were coming out of their houses to look, and Credence knew he had to move. He scrambled to his feet and raced away as a crowd gathered.

It would be alright, he knew it would be. Mister Graves would help him. Whatever was wrong with him, he could be helped, and for now at least no one had been hurt.


	3. Greed/Charity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I blame Fahre for the first half of this. She knows what she did. Also, if anyone wants to know the chronological order of these moments, it goes: Envy, pride, gluttony, diligence, temperance, lust, wrath, patience, humility, greed, kindness, sloth, charity, purity. I'll mention that again in the last chapter)

Greed:   
Credence had finished his lessons for the day. He knew he was getting better, but he also knew that Percival was a busy man. They spent the time together that they could, but Percival couldn't ignore his work for long. So for the evenings, they sat in the parlour, a fire in the grate, and Credence read as Percival went through his case notes.

Credence was allowed to read anything he wanted now, and he absorbed all the knowledge he could - magic and science and everything else he found. Mister Scamander had sent him a book about magical creatures which was his favourite. Percival would smile fondly at him occasionally from his table, and Credence felt himself blush at this simple moment, the security and safety he had here.

Still, it was winter, and the snow was falling outside. Credence was dressed in soft clothes, clothes that Percival had helped him to pick, but he was a little chilled. He knew he only needed to ask and Percival would stoke the fire, adding more logs with a wave of his hand. Or he could fetch one of the blankets that Percival had left lying around when he noticed how much Credence enjoyed their softness. He had even been taught a spell he could use to warm himself a little. 

But none of those held any attraction to him. Instead, he found himself focusing on the coat that was slumped over the back of Percival's chair. He knew from past experience that it was soft, that it would retain Percival's body heat for hours after he stopped wearing it thanks to spells in the lining, and that it held his scent. He knew the lines of that coat back to front, recalled how the lining felt against his fingers, how the sleeves were designed so that Percival could cast spells without catching on it.

When Percival was wearing it, it fell perfectly across his shoulders, made to fit him. Credence knew he had other options, but he couldn't help longing for that coat in particular. He ventured one foot out from where it was tucked beneath him and gasped at the cold floor. Percival shot him a worried glance but he smiled and turned back to his book. 

Once Percival seemed distracted by his paperwork once more, Credence stretched out his hand and focused on the coat in front of him. He didn't have his wand - it was on the table nearby, and he saw Percival do magic without one all the time. He imagined the coat flying to him.  
"Accio coat." He whispered, and the coat gave a slight slump of movement.  
"Accio coat." He repeated, still under his breath, and it flew towards him, the bottom of it scuffing against the floor. It landed on his lap, and he pulled it around his shoulders, enjoying how the woven silver glittered in the firelight as warmth enveloped him. He curled back up with his book, glancing at Percival who was watching him with a soft smile in his eyes. 

Credence grinned, tugging the coat tighter around him. He wasn't giving this back tonight.

***

Charity:  
"What do you want to do Credence?" Percival asked one day, as Credence had wandered around the parlour, checking on the plants that he was growing. Credence had paused for a moment, unsure how to answer that. For a long time, all he had wanted was to escape, and now he had more freedom than he ever dreamed of. He wasn't sure what there was left to want.

Sensing his concern, Percival walked closer, slinging an arm around him and pulling him back against his body. Credence closed his eyes, relaxing against him.  
"It doesn't matter what it is Credence. I just want to know. If you could do anything, what would you do?"

Credence paused, holding back on the honest answer for a moment before reminding himself that Percival had asked him to tell the truth. He licked his lips nervously.  
"If I could do anything at all, I would continue my mother's work. Not...not the new Salem society part. The philanthropy." He bowed his head, ashamed of his answer. "I know that I've moved on from that life. And I am so glad for what you have given me. But ... those children. Mother fed them. And I don't know who else will now."

Percival fell silent for a moment, and Credence was about to apologise when he felt Percival's lips brush the top of his head.  
"You astound me." He said, and his voice sounded almost worshipful. "You want to help those children, then help them we shall."

After that conversation, it wasn't long at all before everything fell into place, Percival organising a soup kitchen to run every day for an hour in the evening, providing food to the children who had nowhere else to go. The aurors all took turns to help out, and rather than preaching about the evil of witches, each child was taught about valuing the lives of others. Credence ran the place, learning each child's name and listening to their worries. Queenie turned up with huge boxes of leftover pastries most days.

For Credence, it felt like his own private miracle. He was carrying on what he had learned as a child, the good parts of it, how to help those most in need. He dished out the soup and pastries, and tended to cuts and grazes with a combination of bandages and simple healing spells.

The kitchen had been running for two weeks when he felt eyes staring at him from the doorway. Percival was bending over the bowl of soup, wearing an apron, and Credence was handing out pastries. He turned to the doorway, and saw a familiar small figure standing there.

He watched as slowly the girl approached, standing some distance away and frowning.  
"Creedie?"  
He sunk to his knees before her so that he could more easily look her in the eye.  
"Hello Modesty."  
"That's the bad man." Modesty whispered, looking at Percival in fear. Credence shook his head, and held out his hand.   
"No. Just someone who looks the same. Modesty, this is Mister Percival, a very dear friend of mine." Percival looked over in shock, and Credence smiled. "Percival, this is my little sister, Modesty."  
"An honour to meet you." Percival said, bowing and then holding out his hand. "Credence has told me a great deal about you."

Modesty curtsied and shook his hand, looking between Credence and Percival hesitantly, and then clung to her brother's shoulders, shaking with emotion. He picked her up and smiled.  
"Want to help me with the soup?"

Modesty nodded, and stared at the pastries. Chuckling, Percival handed one to her. She paused for a second then took a bite.


	4. Wrath/Patience

Wrath:  
Anger sparked through him, easing his form from his shoulders and letting him become more than a cowed human. Mother had beaten him so many times, but he was not willing to let his sister get hurt any more. He was becoming less and more at the same moment, and he heard Modesty's scream, but he didn't care. He let himself collapse into the smoke.

He woke alone, and the air smelt of blood. But the anger sparked again as Mister Graves turned to him and explained his lie. Weeks of searching, months of friendship, betrayed in that moment. He would never be accepted, never have a home. He did not fit among these people, but he had had so many dreams. Anger lashed out again, violent red mixing in with the black tendrils of smoke that coursed through him. The bricks started to crumble.  
"You can control it Credence." Mister Graves voice sounded soft, almost nervous. After so long being in control, right now he knew where the power lay. 

Credence lifted his head, staring into the man he would have given everything to, and decided to be honest with him.  
"But I don't think I want to, Mister Graves." This was the first time in his life that he had felt powerful, and that feeling was good, running through his body. He was angry, and that felt good. He flew through the air, feeling the city crumble beneath him. After a lifetime of cowering in the corner, shaking in fear, he was able to make the city shake.

He could tear the world apart, but for now he just wanted to be free, to show the world what he was capable of. Fury coursed through his body, and as he sunk below ground to rest things started to change. 

For a while, things had become confusing. There was a man with a soft voice, who he didn't feel so angry with. A man who helped him even as Mister Graves appeared and attacked them both, but his body had been weak, and then there were bolts of light and then...then he was free again. He saw Mister Graves's face change, and anger bubbled inside, deeper than before.

Mister Graves hadn't just taken his dreams away. This pretender, this monster, had taken his own Mister Graves.

That fear solidified into something deep inside him, as he realised now that he knew what he had to do. He had to get his Mister Graves back.

There had been one night, when it had been windy, and Mister Graves had walked home rather than disappearing into the air. It was just after they had met, and Mister Graves had been kind. He had walked Credence to the house so that he could get the boy some gloves. That had been the real Mister Graves, he was sure of it. He had been kind without wanting anything more. The gloves were thick and warm, took away the chill.

Mother had found the gloves of course, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he knew where Mister Graves lived.

He spread through the house, his smoke searching through the rooms. Somewhere, Mister Graves was waiting, and he would tear the place to shreds if it took that to find him. Those other wizards would be searching and he had to find him first.

His focus raced through the building, lingering in the office. To the desk. He pulled it open, changing back to human form, and seized a glasses case from the bottom drawer. It was magically locked. He screamed in raw frustration, hands tightening around it, and then it burst apart, throwing a figure forwards.

The first thing Credence saw was blood. He'd seen a lot of blood, but there was a man in there, hair longer than he had been when Credence saw him last. His eyes were haunted, wrists and ankles bound, and the remnants of the coat wrapped around his body were stained with blood. 

Another wave of anger swept through him. He would destroy anyone who hurt his Mister Graves again.

***

Patience:   
He hadn't expected the man on the floor to be conscious, but he lifted his head and looked up at him, blinking slightly then cringing away.  
"Credence..." He whispered, and his voice shook. "I thought... I didn't think he would bring you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Credence crouched to the ground, and carefully removed the ropes from his wrists.   
"You... you're hurt."  
"I am." Mister Graves agreed. "Why...where is he?"  
"The others got him. I came here for you. There's..." Credence busied his hand with undoing the knot at Mister Graves' ankles. "There's something wrong with me Mister Graves."

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. And please, call me Percival. You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

Credence smiled a little, feeling himself blush at the gentle praise.  
"Thank you Percival... I think the other wizards are coming. And I think they are going to kill me."

Percival frowned, trying to sit up, hissing in agony.   
"I won't let them..."  
Credence supported his body, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of Percival's eyes.   
"It's alright. They'll be here soon. You're going to be alright."

He'd heard the door be knocked down, felt Percival flinch in his arms, but he held him still. The wizards, he'd learn in time that they were called aurors, got to work looking after Percival.

"Don't hurt him." Percival had ordered, and he hadn't been hurt. He had been taken to the cells, through the most incredible building he had ever seen, and then ended up being taken to see Percival in what looked like a hospital ward.  
"Hey." Percival smiled to see him. "You're going to stay with me for a little while, if you'd like that?"

Credence nodded. He had no where else to go. Being near Percival meant he could protect him. Percival could help him learn magic. He smiled softly.  
"I would like that very much." He was determined to prove his worth, to help Percival in any way he could.

When Percival was released, the two of them returned to Percival's house, and spent that first evening near the fire in the parlour. Percival was still physically shattered, still twitching at shadows. Credence reached up, stroking his fingers through Percival's hair and humming hymns until Percival fell asleep. Credence stayed awake, watching over him, wondering if he had finally found his place.


	5. Envy/Kindness

Envy:  
Credence stood by the church, his head bowed. Chastity was standing near by also handing out leaflets, one hand resting on Modesty's head. Modesty had arrived two days ago, and she did little but cry. It was putting Mother's temper on edge, and when Mother was angry then it was Credence who suffered.

He didn't mind that. Not really, not when the alternative was his sisters suffering - but he didn't like it when Modesty seemed to go out of her way to provoke the woman. Credence did that enough just by existing.

Chastity seemed to have quieted her for now at least, the little girl clung to her sister’s knee. Credence closed his eyes in silent thanks that it was quiet for a short while, and then decided he needed to head out further - no one was listening to him where he was, and mother would be angry if he didn't manage to hand out the leaflets. 

"Chas, I'm going to the park." He mumbled. "I will see if I have any more people willing to hear the word there."  
"Be careful Creedie." Chastity warned, but didn't stop him. She handed over a couple of her leaflets to him - if he found people willing to take them he could be in trouble if he ran out.

He walked through the park, ignoring the way his body ached. It was getting warmer now, the sun was shining, and people were busy. Dressed in dark clothes, cold ones, he approached different people and held out the leaflets. Most of them walked past without noticing him. He was used to being invisible. He was a failure. A miserable excuse for a son, and that was why his Mother corrected him.

As he walked along the path, he heard laughter, and saw a little girl - Modesty's size - being thrown into the air and caught by her father. Their clothes weren't smart, but they were laughing and he felt pain dig into his chest. He wanted to hear Modesty laugh like that child was, to stop her crying. It was ridiculous how much he wanted that. It was stupid. Wrong. Unnatural just like him.

But he sunk back against a tree, and watched them play, his attention drawn to children laughing with their parents, with mothers plaiting their daughter's hair and friends running along hand by hand. He wanted it all. He knew none of it would ever be his, but it didn't stop him wanting more than he could ever express.

He stared at the leaflets in his hands, and dropped them by the tree roots. Mother wouldn't come to the park, so hopefully she wouldn't find them here. He walked back to the church, frowning a little as he saw Chastity stood there. He smiled a little when she waved at him, but it didn't stop the jealousy that gnawed at his insides.

***

Kindness:  
Credence was always a little in awe of Mister Scamander, despite all his awkwardness and the fact he caused chaos. Mister Scamander (call me Newt) was a kind man, one who had risked his life to save Credence. 

Percival always muttered about Newt being a troublemaker, but Credence was fond of the man, happy to spend time in his case - there were so many magical things inside, a family unlike any he had ever met before. When Newt was in town, he would help care for the creatures.

Dropping down in the case was welcoming, and he had learned about each creature - he was a frantic student of Mister Scamander's book, and memorised the contents so that he could answer questions. Mister Scamander smiled proudly when he got questions right, and Credence thought anyone who smiled like that couldn't be bad.

Just because Newt wasn't bad though didn't mean that his creatures were all well behaved. In fact, some of them were the exact opposite. Most troublesome of all was the niffler. But as Credence dropped down, he held out a shiny cent for him. The niffler grabbed it and shoved it into his stomach pouch, chittering happily and then scampering away. Credence went to play with the mooncalves and was soon swarmed.

Eventually he climbed out to return to Percival, walking along to his office, and knocking before pushing open the door. He froze at what he saw, taking in the scene and then beginning to laugh.

Percival was standing, his wand raised, and he had conjured some chains which were wrapped around the niffler, not digging in but holding the creature firmly. Credence stepped inside.  
"Everything alright?"  
"The little thief took my pocket watch. I really should impound him." Percival complained, but Credence knew he didn't mean those words. He was just angry. It was a strange realisation: that Percival might be annoyed but wouldn't take it out on either Credence or the creature.

"I can get it back?" Credence volunteered, walking over to the niffler and upending it, tickling it until it released the watch and a few other small treasures as well - sweet wrappers, and the shiny coin Credence had given him. Percival snatched up his watch, and Credence laughed, picking up the niffler and carefully removing the chain.  
"Here..." He cradled the creature carefully, and handed him back the coin and his other delicate treasures. The niffler snuggled in his arms.

"Thank you. I should have him stuffed."  
"You will not." Credence said, with a faint smile. Petting the niffler gently, he carried him back to Newt's case, knocking and then climbing down with the creature in his arms.  
"He got out again." He mumbled to Newt.

Newt smiled and returned the Niffler to his den, hugging Credence briefly in thanks. Feeling light, Credence returned to Percival's office.


	6. Sloth/Diligence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you all for your support!)

Sloth:   
Technically, Credence was working. Technically was a word Queenie had taught him, and she said it like a charm, a way to get away with things if instructions weren't precise enough or had more than one meaning. Like, technically no men walked into their apartment, if Percival and Credence apparated in. Technically, Newt had the correct permits even if they were forged. Technically brought with it a world of possibility, a lifetime of getting away with things mother would never have allowed. When Percival found out, he had muttered about the difference between word and spirit, but he hadn't been angry. As long as Credence was technically working, that was good enough. 

Most of the time, Credence was busy with his studies, or with helping Percival - he was still learning magic, but he could organise paperwork and find things. He didn't want to be an auror, but he liked being near Percival so he often helped in his office and fetched coffee. A lot of coffee.

This morning, when Percival had looked at him the rims of his glasses and said that he had an assignment for Credence, Credence hadn't known what to expect. Percival had slid a folder of paper over the desk towards him.  
"A known troublemaker has arrived in New York, and I am asking you to supervise them."

Credence blinked, and looked from Percival to the folder, opening it with care as though it were likely to bite his fingers. And Newt's image looked up at him, managing to look awkward even in a photograph, twisting and squirming.  
"Newt?" Credence asked uncertainly, wondering if this was a trick.  
"Newt is staying in New York today before going travelling. Since you've been reading his books with such interest and he knows you well I thought you could keep an eye on the case."

Credence opened his mouth, unsure whether he should accept or question Percival's plan.  
"It's your choice Credence. I'm assigning an auror to accompany him for his journey, this would just be for the next day or two."

Credence nodded slowly, smiling at Percival.  
"I can do it."

So he and Miss Goldstein went to the port, and he met Newt. He hadn't been sure whether he would be walking around with Newt, or attempting to trail him. Instead, Newt greeted him with a smile and asked Credence to join him in the case. Credence climbed in obediently, picking up the niffler as it made another escape attempt.

The next hour had been full of feeding the different creatures. Then, Newt had smiled.  
"I've got a meeting. You can look after them for a little while, can't you?"  
Credence nodded, and went to check on the mooncalves. They were apparently in a cuddling mood.

A few minutes later, Credence was laying on his back, the niffler snuggled up to his chest and mooncalves cuddled up on each side. Dougal was stroking Credence's hair, and the occamies were laying across his legs, big enough to provide a calming weight there. A graphorn calf was watching from nearby, and little creatures hovered in the air above him. This felt warm, safe, and he didn't need to worry. He yawned and snuggled closer to the creatures, laughing as a puffskein rolled up to him and started to lick at his face.

He was supervising Newt's creatures and making sure that none escaped, so he was technically doing what he was meant to. But right now he was comfortable. He allowed his eyes to drift closed, a smile on his face.

***

Diligence:  
Mister Graves wanted Credence to find the obscurial. A boy or a girl, younger than ten years old. If he did that, he would be rewarded. He would be given security, a chance to escape his life, to leave behind his mother and start again.

So Credence was determined to find them. Mister Graves had been different, the last month or so, more insistent that he did as he asked, driving him to look harder and showing anger when Credence failed. But Credence knew that the obscurial was important. He didn't understand what an obscurial was, not really, but Mister Graves wanted him to find them and he would do anything Mister Graves asked.

There were a lot of children at the church, some passing through only once or twice, others there almost every day. Many were young, most under twelve, so there would be hundreds to check. He wished he had been given some tool to aid his search, but instead all he had was the knowledge that Mister Graves was relying on him and that failure would not be accepted.

He watched each child as they came into the church. There were so many. He knew his target was somewhere here, but short of asking them he didn't know how to tell. He kept looking for any sign that stood out, any behaviour that was wrong. One boy had a mark on his face, which raised Credence's hope, but he felt his hope fail when Mother denied that there was anything magical behind the injury.

He handed each child their leaflets to give out, and looked into each face in turn. Nothing seemed out of place. He was frightened that he wouldn't find the child fast enough, that he would fail Mister Graves or Mister Graves would tire of him. 

He would keep looking. He had to.


	7. Lust/Purity

Lust:  
Mister Graves had changed a lot over the past few weeks. Credence couldn't say that it was a good change - he had gone from trusting Mister Graves completely to relying on him because he didn't know what he could do without him. The older man had demanded so much from him - had asked him to find the obscurial no matter what the cost. When it had started, Mister Graves had taken care of him. Now he was demanding, willing to ignore even Credence's curfew, though it would get him beaten. Mister Graves would heal the injuries, but still... Credence found himself missing the man he had known before, how kind and gentle he had been. But when he found the obscurial, everything would be better. That was what kept him searching, and made him determined to please him.

Today, the alleyway where they met was empty. Credence found himself drawn there anyway, hoping he would see Mister Graves. It might have been a lost cause, but he longed to see the other man. 

He heard the air crack behind him as Mister Graves appeared. He turned towards him, and walked closer. Mister Graves reached out toward his face, and stroked a thumb across Credence's cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into the contact, his body thrumming with the sensation. He had not realised before Mister Graves just how much he longed for contact. 

"My dear boy..." Mister Graves murmured. "Have you had any success?"  
"Not yet Mister Graves. I will keep looking."

"As long as you are careful." Mister Graves said, as though he could tell Credence was having doubts. Credence smiled and cuddled up against his chest, shivering at the sensation. Mister Graves might behave differently now, but he still smelt the same. 

For a few moments Mister Graves indulged him, pressing his lips to Credence's forehead and telling him he was doing well, before he disappeared once more, leaving Credence wanting and alone.

***

Purity:  
Credence could remember a time when he had hoped he would be a good husband, that his hair and his gentle nature would be enough to compensate for his height and his stupidity. He remembered his mother cutting his hair, taking that hope away from him - but that felt like a lifetime ago now.

He yawned, rolling over in bed and smiling at Percival, nuzzling into his side.   
"You look thoughtful." Percival teased. Credence nodded.  
"Am I a good husband?" He asked, glancing at the ring on his finger.  
"You are the best." Percival whispered, and Credence rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You are as well." Credence agreed, leaning up to brush his lips against Percival's own. The door to their bedroom creaked, and the two sprung apart, Credence blushing as Percival tried to look smart.

"Uncle Percival?" Modesty asked, looking between the two of them and frowning a little, nose screwing up. "Can you make me some toast?"

Percival nodded.  
"Go to kitchen and get some bread ready Modesty, and remember, you are meant to knock. I'll be in in a minute."   
"Thank you, Uncle Percival!"  
Modesty skipped away, and Percival chuckled, pressing a kiss to Credence's lips and stroking his fingers through Credence's wavy hair.  
"Stay in the warm. I'll be back soon." Percival pulled on his dressing gown and walked away, leaving Credence sprawled in their bed. Just that thought sent a thrill through him. A bed that he could share with Percival, where he was welcomed and wanted and loved. His marriage bed, and wasn’t that a dream come true.

Modesty was sleeping in what had once been his own room, and was adapting well to her new life - once she had realised that magic could be used for cooking, she had become a lot more amenable to witchcraft. She had even formed a friendship with Queenie, which had led to her having a lot of beautiful dresses and starting to laugh a lot more. Credence loved seeing her laugh. There had been too much pain in her life before this, she deserved joy now.

Credence had a husband, and was a husband in turn. There was someone he was to spend his life with, to kiss and to talk to and to love, and he loved so much and so deeply. 

In this life, the obscurus was no longer a threat. It was there, in the back of his mind, but it was formed as a desperate attempt at defence. He didn't need to be defended now, not from this world which had welcomed him, or from the man he loved and sister he adored. The intensity of fear and anger had given way to something else entirely.

He curled over, snuggling into the warm spot Percival's body had left, and relaxed, closing his eyes and feeling the magic flow through him, a soothing caress. He opened his eyes as he heard Percival approach, floating a tray of food in front of him. Toast and butter and jam and tea with honey and milk for Credence, and a cup of coffee for Percival. His life was full of little luxuries like the honey, like Percival's hand holding his own, like knowing he was home.

He had been brought up to believe he was a sinner, that he was unnatural, a monster. But with Percival beside him, in his home and knowing he belonged, there was nothing that would make him feel wrong.

Percival nipped gently at the top of his ear, making Credence squirm.  
"Modesty is going out for lunch with Queenie today. So we'll have the house to ourselves." There was a faint smirk in his voice.

Overwhelmed, Credence leaned in for another tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (That's the end! Thank you for all of your support throughout this, it’s been good fun to write. The chronological order for these moments is: envy, pride, gluttony, diligence, temperance, lust, wrath, patience, humility, greed, kindness, sloth, charity, purity)


End file.
